


The Other Blond at Number Four

by syringe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Babbling, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Dursleys, M/M, Relationship Dilemma, Sex, Sort Of, Top Harry Potter, Voyeurism, fwb to lovers, midnight snacks, salad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syringe/pseuds/syringe
Summary: Dudley shouldn't be surprised that it's Malfoy, but he can't help the bewilderment that overwhelms him when he sees that mean little face screwed up in pleasure, staring up at his cousin with starry eyedadoration.or,Dudley finds out about a terrifying blondefreakstraight from the dark side (!) shacking up with his cousin right here in his home. Naturally, he goes snooping...





	The Other Blond at Number Four

**Author's Note:**

> if you're familiar with my work, you'll know i have a strange affinity for these fics where drarry are walked in on... sort of. this one was quite fun to write, and i hope you like it!

Dudley becomes aware of the intruder's presence at about one in the morning on a warm Friday night, via a soft thud that comes from the kitchen. His parents are out at that holiday beach resort that Mum simply couldn't stop talking about all week, and are not likely to return before Wednesday (that's when the big game is on). Even his scrawny cousin is likely to be asleep at this hour. He's been keeping to the confines of his bedroom all summer so far, anyway. 

If, however, the source of the noise does end up being him... well, Dudley's awfully bored anyway. It'll be fun to chew the twerp out, despite the hour. 

With a groan, he hoists himself out of the beanbag in front of the monitor, tossing his PS2 controller aside carelessly. The door creaks only slightly when he eases it open and tiptoes down the hallway. He's perfected his stealth technique, of course, from the times he and Piers have snuck out late and stolen Dad's car out of the garage and into the town. 

The bangs grow louder as he approaches the kitchen. Typical of the freak, Harry, to be stealing food at midnight. 

"What are you doing here, f-" he stops, once he's in the kitchen doorway. The figure standing before the cabinets is far too lean and too tall to be his cousin, "-reak?"

The intuder rounds on him, eyes flashing with alarm, silver and unnatural in the moonlight. He's got white hair- no- not like Grandma Winona's, but not anything he can exactly call blond either. It covers his head in endless tufts of downy white, straight and sleek, cut short enough about his head but falling in loose strands over his brows. He's wearing a starched shirt and pressed pants, like he's going to a wedding or a funeral, and not sneaking around in an ordinary kitchen at arse o clock in the morning. What tells him for sure that he's not normal, however, is the long stick he's got pointed right at Dudley's heart. His feet go cold. 

"What do you want, _Muggle_?" the blond's lips curl in a savage sneer, unlike anything he's ever seen, far meaner than any of his friends'. The boy reminds him of Piers in the way his face is pointy and pinched with an air of distinct meanness, but he's not ratty like Piers. He looks less like he's putting on an air of haughtiness and more like he's been born that way: with a platinum spoon in his mouth. 

What's a 'Muggle'? The way the blond practically spit the word out leads Dudley to believe it's not a very nice thing to be. 

"Who are you?" Dudley attempts to asks firmly, but it comes out as a weak stammer and the boy's lip curls impossibly more over pearly teeth, utter disgust betrayed by his eyes.

"A _freak_," the boy snarls with a mean little not-quite-smile, and flicks his wrist bearing the stick. A sharp sting makes itself apparent in Dudley's backside, and he yelps, hands jumping to the affected area and fear bubbling in his gut. 

"Y-you're not allowed to do magic outside of school," Dudley tries, desperately grasping onto the singular morsel of knowledge that protected him from Harry's hidden wrath, "you'll be expelled!" His slight triumph at the end of his little outburst is quelled quickly by the second sting in the same spot, stronger than the first. He yelps, and rubs his backside woefully as the blond sneers down his nose at him again. 

"I'm an adult, you bumbling idiot. I can do whatever I want," he turns back to the cabinets, rummaging through one before clicking his tongue and banging it shut. 

"Besides, it's not like I'm going back to school anyway."

His acrid tone makes Dudley shrink back a little more, "s-so... you're another one of the- _Harry's_ friends?"

The blond is on him before he can blink, and he lets out and embarassing sort of whinny as the wooden tip of the stick pokes into his flesh. 

"I'm not his _friend_!" he growls, and up close, he's infinitely more terrifying. His eyes are like molten steel, and currently flashing savagely at him. He's an inch or so shorter than Dudley, but he still manages to look at him down his nose by tilting his white head back. His skin is perfectly unblemished, and in the face of his panic, Dudley wonders if he uses the M-word to keep himself looking good. 

"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry- p-lease!" Dudley shouts, and is horrified to note that his voice breaks into a sob.

"Pathetic," the blond spits, and Dudley's heart is pounding, truly terrified for once at what seems to be an enemy of Harry's, armed and dangerous and in his kitchen, "I shouldn't even be wasting my time with the likes of stinking vermin like-"

"M'foy?" a sleepy voice calls from the hallway outside the kitchen and both blonds freeze. Harry walks in wearing overlarge pyjamas; his horrible hair rumpled impossibility more than usual, and his glasses askew. His eyes are soft with sleep. 

"Harry! He's going to kill us!" Dudley shouts in a panic. After all, this boy was an enemy of Harry's and his, both. 

"Of all the bumbling things!" the stranger exclaims, seemingly affronted at such an accusation.

"What're you doing down here, Malfoy?" Harry rubs his eyes and the blond backs away from Dudley (much to the latter's relief).

"I'm starving. And this disgusting hovel barely has anything decent for me to eat!"

Harry pauses before 'Malfoy' thoughtfully, and Dudley can't believe his eyes when his cousin reaches a hand out and _pets_\- for lack of a better word- his white hair affectionately. It was like watching a man climbing into a lion's cage and settling down to cuddle with it. 

"You great spoilt brat," he mumbles, and instead of lashing out with his snarl and his stick, the blond merely 'harrumphs' and pouts his rosy lips indignantly, "Do you want me to make you something?"

"A salad will suffice," Malfoy states haughtily, like he's placing an order at a restaurant, "without onions if you will. A glass of wine would be nice, but I doubt this Muggle pigsty of a home will have it."

Harry's smiling at the boy's ridiculous order- it's certainly not a request- and Dudley knows that if nothing else, this was definitely proof that his cousin is truly a freak. A crazy freak. 

"Alright your highness," he rolls his eyes, "but only cause I'm hungry too."

The two freaks turn their gazes towards Dudley slumped against the wall and sweating buckets.

"Oh, er, Dudley," Harry says, suddenly the awkward teenaged stick he's always been and not the wondrous daredevil who has quelled the beast that is the mysterious Malfoy, "I suppose you wouldn't... like a salad?"

Instead of answering the question Dudley says, "Harry, who is this?" in a tone far too high and rushed. 

"This...?" the two look at eachother again, "Is Malfoy."

"But who is he?" Dudley asks again, "What's he to you? What's he _doing_ here?"

"He's a... friend. And he's--"

"_FRIEND_?" Malfoy exclaims again, and Dudley recoils. This seems to be a trigger of sorts, "We are not _friends_, Potter!"

"We're not?" Harry's face falls, and Malfoy scowls.

"No! Of course we're not!"

"Then what are we?"

"I don't know!"

Dudley could not have been less interested in their... friendship dilemma. 

"But why's he _here_?" he asks shrilly. 

"Oh," Harry pauses thoughtfully, like he's forgotten there's normal people in this household who wouldn't know what the hell is going on, "he's... changed sides. He needs protection 

"Sides..?" Dudley asks, because he's speaking nonsense again.

"Yeah, he used to be on the... dark side. Now he's converted to the light side."

"What, like in Star Wars?" so the blond menace _was_ evil, no surprise there.

"Star... wars?" Malfoy snaps, and the suddenness of it frightens Dudley to bits, "Your cousin- does he carry the centaur gene in his blood?"

"We've talked about this, Malfoy. He's a Muggle."

There was that word again. Only Harry didn't pronounce it like it had personally offended him. 

"What's a Muggle?" he asks. 

"It's a person with no magic," is what Harry answers, at the same time as Draco says: "A horrible disgrace to the universe. So severely inferior to our Great Kind that it sickens me just to be the presence of one."

"Malfoy..." Harry says tiredly while Dudley _might have_ started trembling again, "we talked about this."

"We talk about nothing!" the blond bellows, whipping his wand about forebodingly, "We haven't talked in days, and every time we start, you just flip me over on your dinky old bed and-!"

"Malfoy!" the brunet cuts him off, and all of a sudden, his hands are on his shoulders and his expression is tender, "Go back upstairs, and wait for me, alright? I'll get you your blasted salad and we can talk all you want," he says softly. 

Malfoy's eyes are still hard, and his lip splits into another fantastically mean sneer, and he snaps, "Fine, Potter, make it quick," before strutting out of the room. 

"OW!" Dudley cries, clutching his bum again, and glares at Harry who is rummaging in the fridge for something leafy, "You did that, didn't you?"

"Don't be daft," the brunet deadpans, seeming far less friendly than he did a moment ago, "You know I'm not allowed."

"But- that bloke-"

"Malfoy's already seventeen, so he's allowed," Harry straightens up with the appropriate foodstuffs he'd need for a ghastly salad dish.

"He said he's not going back to your freak school," Dudley taunts, most of his confidence having come back to him, "what'd he do? Fail any of your hocus pocus subjects?"

He knows he's pushing it a bit, but he really wants to have something over that prick. And he's gotten six B's and two A's this semester: pretty smart if you ask. 

Harry shoots him a venomous look out of the corner of his eye, "He attempted to murder the Headmaster and smuggled dozens of people from the- dark side- past high level magical security who killed him in his stead."

Dudley knows his mouth is open, and he doesn't bother to close it. 

"But he's not a murderer," Harry continues, softly, "And he's got brilliant grades, by the way. Second best in our year. Can you leave?" he asks abruptly, "I don't much fancy talking to you."

He doesn't even put up a fight, being too shell-shocked to speak, and makes his way back up the stairs. There's a dangerous felon in his house! And he knows it's time to put on his detective cap and find more information on the mysterious arsehole--

\--after a good night's sleep, of course. 

It's early in the morning, and he's in a tree, the branch trembling precariously as he holds a binocular to his eyes. Harry's room has no curtains of course, and despite the size of the room, his window is large. 

There's a grey lump where his cousin sleeps under the covers, and it's uneventful for a while. Dudley's about to leave when the covers shift and scuffle. 

Lo and behold! The thin duvet is thrown off unceremoniously and two pale bodies tangle together in a mess of arms and legs and- cock! Harry's got his cock out! And it's- grudgingly- quite sizeable. 

Dudley feels dirty. He expected to find out more about the mysterious Malfoy character in the room but it seems like Harry's got a girlfriend after all. They must be using the M-word to muffle the noises from the rest of the house, but from the outside, he's loud. Dudley's a good 10 feet or so away from the window but he can hear clearly the noises that spill out of Harry's mouth. 

He's on top of his girl, kissing and sucking, no doubt even if their faces are out of sight. Dudley does, however, see his fingers pumping in, out, in, and out of a tiny pink little hole between her legs, her pubic area covered by another of Harry's large, rubbing hands. Dudley feels his pants growing tight around his groin and he rubs himself against the hard bark of the tree. 

"Fuck me? Fuck me! FUCK me! Oh, I want you right now," he seems to be saying, desperately, and things start to get a little odd when he himself answers, "Fuck, yes, there's a love, I'll fuck you so hard you'll see your entire constellation."

Dudley nearly falls out of the tree when Harry leaves the bed-- butt naked and rummaging in a drawer for god-knows-what-- and for the second time today, he's caught off guard by the appearance of a throbbing pink cock. A cock! Harry's girl is not a girl at all! 

Two hands grab at the cock, one squeezing his own shaft and the other, his balls. "Potter, Potter, oh, I ca- can't take it- I need-"

Harry's on him again in seconds, slapping his hands away and replacing them with his own, fingers pumping hungrily at his cock, fondling his balls and squelching into his little puckered arsehole. Dudley groans, and he's not gay, not at all, but the reality of the scene that unfolds before him, and his already present hard on forces him to rub himself minutely against the hardness of the tree-bark again.

"Now, Potter- PLEASE!"

And Harry shuts him up, somehow, grabbing him by his bony ankles and hurling him forward so that his legs come to bracket his waist. 

Dudley shouldn't be surprised that it's Malfoy, not really, but he can't help the bewilderment that tends to overwhelm him when he sees that mean little face screwed up in pleasure and staring up at his cousin with starry eyed _adoration_, that bitter mouth open in a delicate gasp and that forked tongue darting out to lick his lips. Even more baffling is when Harry pushes his ridiculously-- sizeable!-- prick into that impossibly tiny hole in a single smooth thrust that can only indicate days and weeks and months of practice. Only then does it occur to Dudley that his cousin and this posh blond terror could have been fucking in his old bedroom all summer while he was none the wiser. 

Malfoy makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, and suddenly they're moving, the bed rocks and shudders under the combined weight of the two boys and they're... bouncing. Up and down, in and out, screaming and moaning and what not. "More"s and "faster"s and "oh oh _oh_"s fill the air and Dudley wonders if falling from a two-ish storey tree is fatal. 

When the noises finally stop, Dudley picks up his binoculars again, catches Harry saying those things again, "There's a darling. There you go, sweet." and Malfoy's laughing, calling him a "great, adorable prat" between increasingly languid kisses. Dudley finally attempts to climb back down. (Not without slipping three quarters of the way down).

That night, Dudley hears the soft banging noises again and asks himself: sex or stealing food? He decides to be optimistic and go with the latter, and tiptoes down the stairs much like yesterday. There he is, Malfoy, peering into cupboards again, but this time, he's in a large red jersey and silky pyjama pants instead of his funeral clothes. 

He throws a silver tipped glare over his shoulder, and says, acidly, "It's you again." 

Maybe it's got something to do with the memory of his face soft and pliant after his orgasm, or the letters on his shirt that read "POTTER 07" in gold-- but Dudley's not very afraid of him anymore. 

"Are you Harry's boyfriend?" he blurts out sincerely, and Malfoy's lip curls. He may not be terrified of the blond's very presence anymore, but shouldn't have been stupid enough to assume he's harmless. 

"YEOW!" he hollers, when the stinging pain hits him _hard_ right in the arse again, and there's an apology on his lips when Malfoy sweeps past him, a tin of Mum's favourite biscuits in hand. 

"Yes, I am," he says softly, and there's certainly a flush in his cheeks as he makes his way up, no doubt, to Harry's bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> ta-da! i hope you liked it! please leave me a comment if you did! :-) it would mean the world! my twt is @dracominnie if you'd like to be friends!₊*̥(* ⁰̷̴͈^⁰̷̴͈)‧˚₊
> 
> Others by me:
> 
> [Foreshadowing (I Really Should Have Seen That Coming) (2.8K)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764577)
> 
> [Father's Eyes (4K)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019106)
> 
> [I've Encountered Something I cannot Deny (16K)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663806)


End file.
